


Gift for Fluffy

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks





	Gift for Fluffy

It’s another stupid bet that lands him in this situation. This one seems slightly less stupid to Tom at the time, because it’s a bet at something he is very adept at.

Drinking.

Little does Tom know, Tord can drink like a sailor. Honestly. He watches as Tord puts away shot after shot of Smirnoff without so much as a wrinkle in his complexion. Meanwhile Tom is red faced and out of it after a couple rounds. He can still put away more than your average joe, he’s absolutely not a lightweight. 

But Tord is apparently not human. Sub-human more likely. Tom feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Alright friend, you’re done, you lost,” Tord says as he slides the bottle away from Tom. Tom flails out to get it and Tord merely pushes it further out of reach and grabs hold of Tom’s hoodie when he tries to lean farther out to grab it.

“I didn’t lose shit,” Tom spits. His whole world decides it’s going to tilt sideways and Tord catches Tom as he nearly falls off the stool he is sitting on. 

“Yeah alright, you’re the winner here,” Tord says as he hoists Tom back onto the stool.

“What did I win?” Tom slurs leaning to the other side now. Honestly he’s like a drunk seesaw. Tord regrets ever even initiating this kind of thing with Tom. He wanted to stop before Tom got really smashed but Tom’s condition was pretty steady for a bit, and then seemingly after one more drink it was all downhill from there. Now he’s got a belligerent drunk to put away to bed.

“You won a one way trip to your bed and an ‘I owe Tord’” Tord said as he wrapped Tom’s arm around his shoulder and threaded his arm around Tom’s waist. 

“What’s an iotord?” 

“Something you should worry about when you can actually walk straight,” Tord sighed as Tom stumbled up the first step.

“Kay,” Tom said as he managed to find a rhythm to his steps. Tord walked him to his room and then left him in front of his door. He watched as Tom merely stared at the closed door with a vapid expression. Tord opened the door for him and watched to make sure Tom actually made it to his bed and didn’t fall out his window or anything. He watched him bellyflop on his bed before closing the door and going to his own bed to get some sleep.

The next day around noon Tom shows up at his door unprompted. He’s wearing his standard blue hoodie and admittedly still looks like he is feeling the dregs of last night.

“Hello Thomas, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Tord says as he leans in the door frame.

Tom looks at him, annoyance written clear across his face, “Let’s get this over with, I got over one headache, time to deal with this one.”

Tord smiles and moves aside to let Tom go in. While Tom stands, hips akimbo, Tord rifles through his closet and comes back out with a small folded bit of cloth. He hands it to Tom. Tom looks at it, realizes the nature of what is in his hands and promptly slaps his forehead. It’s the whole panty, stocking, garter belt combo.

“Tord if you like women’s clothing so much, why don’t you just fuck women?”

Tord looks at him, and for a moment his face is dead serious, not a trace of humor on it, “If I wanted a woman, I’d date a woman. Now are you going to honor your bet?”

Tom is taken aback by his steely demeanor, but quickly recovers. He lets out a huff and turns around to pull off his pants and put on Tord’s stupid little prize. He knows he is giving Tord a good long look at his ass but it gives him a modicum of comfort to not have to show how red his face is getting as he is attempting to slide the panties up his legs.

That shred of comfort disintegrates as Tom notices the full length mirror on Tord’s closet and realizes Tord has been watching him in amusement on his bed the whole time. Tom quickly throws a look over his shoulder to give Tord a pissed off glare and then continues to pull the rest of his garments up his legs. 

He’s not proud that he is half hard by the time he finishes. He fucking hates that Tord is always the one to push and prod at parts of him he didn’t even know were reactive to this kind of thing. That Tord can stir to life parts of him he didn’t even know existed. He would rather not have someone so fickle have such an intimate knowledge and understanding of him. 

“You can sulk over there for as long as you want, you’re only drawing this out,” Tord’s smug voice made his skin prickle. Slowly Tom turned around, arms crossed over his chest still glaring at Tord. Tord’s smile merely widened as he crooked a finger at Tom. Tom reluctantly made his way over.

When in arms distance, Tord wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close. He slid a finger under one of the garters and pulled it up to let it snap back down. Tom merely looked at him with building ire.

“You say I’m dragging this out?”

“I am merely enjoying myself reaping a reward from a competition you chose we have,” Tord said as he ran his hand up the inside of Tom’s thigh. His hand drifted dangerously close to his crotch, and then he moved it down again. Tom seemed to only grow more irritated at that.

Tord moved a hand up his back, pushing him up closer so that their crotches were planted firmly against each other. Just ever so slightly, Tord began to shift against him. Tom isn’t proud to say he got hard after more than a few minutes of that. 

He takes a minute to pause and just looked at Tom, and Tom takes that minute to glare back at him, trying to maintain a shred of self-respect while he’s sitting in Tord’s lap in panties with an erection.

“You look-,” Tord begins.

“I’m going to pull this off and choke you with it if you make another comment,” Tom snarls, pointing at one of his stockings.

Lithe fingers moved to take hold of the bottom of Tom’s hoodie and move to pull it off. Tom lets him even though ever voice in his head is screaming to do otherwise. His face is still pinched a nasty scowl written across it and Tom looks about as inviting as barbed wire.

Why is that the most enticing thing to Tord? He would probably put his dick in a blender if it gave him a sultry glare. 

He places a harsh nip on Tom’s chest and the man under him jolts, but doesn’t say anything. He merely presses closer to push their crotches more firmly together. Tord continues with a series of small bites, littering them in an erratic pattern across Tom’s chest. All the while Tom is shifting closer, gripping him tighter, hands starting to claw as they grip his hoodie. He is rubbing himself against Tord at an unsteady pace.

He doesn’t notice when Tord stops and just sits back to watch him basically trying to ride his clothed dick. He does notice when an entirely accidental and way too loud moan slips out of his mouth, immediately followed by an embarrassed little “fuck” and a furtive glance at Tord, to confirm yes, he had heard it, and yes, he probably would hold it over Tom’s head for a while.

Tom lets out a small little “tch” as Tord unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. He kind of just lets it sit there for a moment before Tom gets the idea that Tord wants him to initiate the next move.

“What am I supposed to do here? You want me to ride it or suck it? I’m going to need lube if it’s the first one.”

Tord lean over and rifles through the nightstand, pulling out a packet of lube and tossing it over to Tom. He moves his finger in a small circle and says, “Turn around.”

Tom does so, getting on his hands and knees, legs spread apart on either side of Tord’s lap. It’s a vulnerable position to be in and he hopes Tord doesn’t get it in him to be an ass.

That hope dies as Tord gives a harsh slap across his ass before coating a finger in lube and roughly pushing it in. He reaches around with his other hand to fondle at Tom’s balls through the panties. Occasionally he stops to give him a pinch on the inside of his thigh or another slap on his ass.

Tom finds himself being more and more agitated and worked up as the time passes. By the time Tord is putting in a third finger and thrusting it in, Tom is at the edge of his already very frayed patience. He looks back at Tord and snaps.

“Can you just get on with it?”

Those fingers pull out of him in and Tom looks over his shoulder to see Tord sitting back, hands laying on either side of his erection.

“You want to get on with it, get on it,” he says raising his eyebrows.

Tom is going to ensure Tord dies in his sleep one of these nights when he forgets to lock his door. He turns himself around and yanks down the panties roughly pushing down the stockings as well when a hand stops him.

“Ah ah ah. Keep them on,” Tord says. Tom looks at him incredulously, but decides not to argue it. He can argue a losing battle for fifteen minutes, or be done in that span of time if Tord is feeling generous, and honestly, he would rather get on with his day. 

Tom sinks down on Tord’s cock and Tord watches as he slowly swallows him down, Tom’s cock bobbing in front of him as he shifts and angles himself to make sure he is comfortable. His head was enough of a pain this morning, he doesn’t need more of that

Tord starts to stroke him and that spurs Tom into further chasing his own pleasure. He is tired, he is worked up from Tord’s “preparation” earlier, he wants cum and then eat and then fall asleep at four in the afternoon like the productive member of society he is.

So he starts moving, moving himself so that Tord’s cock hits just the right areas as he moves up and down it. Once he finds the right place and the right rhythm, everything else seems to fall away. It’s just this cycle of pulling up and pushing down, receiving a little jab of pleasure, just to do it over again, working himself up as he completely forgets where he is or what he is doing with who.

It’s just Tom, Tom’s pleasure, and a Tord shaped dildo.

Until Tord decides he has gotten bored of merely watching Tom enjoy a blissful moment. He delivers a harsh thrust up and simultaneously pulls Tom down to meet it. Tord continues this pace as Tom tries to adjust under him, a single stockinged leg kicking out futilely as he is moved back and down against the bed, Tord now being the one on top.

Tom is a mess of moans and gasps as he struggles to take Tord’s thrusts and adjust to the new position. Tord is going harder and deeper than Tom could achieve on his own, and frankly Tom is struggling to adjust.

He finds himself spreading his legs wider and wider with Tord encouraging this as he attempts to pin his legs apart as he focuses on nothing else but making the body under him writhe. Indeed it does. Tord’s thrusts get even harder if that’s even possible and okay now it is actually starting to hurt and Tom’s on the verge of asking him to stop or slow when he feels Tord cum inside him and promptly flop over on top of him.

“Wha- hey you fucking dick, can you finish the job?” Tom snarls after a moment of confusion.

“I did finish,” Tord said, and even though his face was in his chest, Tom could imagine the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I didn’t, can you at least get off so I can go jack off?”

To his infinite relief Tord actually listens, moving off and letting Tom get up. That relief evaporates into thin air along with Tom’s self-restraint as Tord yanks him back into his lap. Tom immediately tries to ram his head back and catch Tord with it, but Tord is either omniscient or has unreal reflexes, because he leans back in response and the effort is futile.

“Calm down there,” The smooth voice sounds off from behind him. Tom feels two fingers pushing into his entrance, squishing in alongside some of the cum. He grips Tom’s shaft and before he can even move Tom is thrusting up in his hand and pushing back on his fingers with little to no movement from Tord himself. He thinks if he teases Tom any more today he is going to get something broken or punched.

Tom cums and it lands all over Tord’s hand. He is out of his lap in an instant, panties and garter still wadded around his waist. He exits without a word or glance back, leaving Tord with two hands that are soiled with cum and weirdly incensed. How does he feel like the loser here?

He never gets the lingerie back. Part of him wonders if it ended up in the garbage. Part of him really hopes otherwise.


End file.
